Tis the Season

So, long story short...I DIDN'T have to wait too long to get the cast off. Fortunately, I decided to dump my old skewl Orthopedist and go with a Westchestah, neo-Ortho (read: $$$) who promptly (and gratefully!) removed my cast and whipped me into Physical Therapy. Even though I have a slight limp, it will go away, I don't need surgery and, the leg is healing great! In fact both my Doc and my PT are amazed at my speedy recovery. Not even 2 months since I broke the appendage and I'm walking without any sort of splint/cast/crutch, etc. etc. Okay...here's the thingy...

Although I've observed some way bad behavior (and not the sexy-I-wanna-fuck kind...more like the 'fuck you' sorta shit), quite frequently in this City of about a bazillion people and, which I now work in as opposed to actually live in, some good things like this REALLY do happen. But, I'll get to that towards the end of this post.

Interestingly enough, and although the weather was buck-ass cold today, I was stomping around midtown during a self-imposed mid-day break and with a smile on my face, observed how there weren't too many people reciprocating. Heading my holiday-happy-ass over to KMart for a reeeeallly cheap piece of electronics (a cheap-o DVD player, if you must know), I wasn't sure where to locate the device, stocked somewhere in the myriad of crap the store has to offer so, noticing a signature 'red' shirt, I approached him...

Say, uh...(looking at badge, pinned nearly sideways on his not-so-clean shirt and across one of his man-breasts) Jose, do you know where I can find a DVD player?

(smile beginning - tentative - across Jose's jowly face) "I...yeah...go down this way and take a right at the end of the row."

Thanks, Jose and have a great day!

"You too...thanks!"

As I walked past Jose's bulky, overfed body, his head swivelled on his triple-ringed neck, while his incredulous, crooked smile followed my movements as if no one had ever bothered to just be pleasant. I really don't think much about it, it's just the way I am and quite likely due to my living in the southern part of the U.S. for so long. While it's true there are a lot of rednecks and those with the 'kill for Jesus' kinda attitude, there are others who are well, pleasant and uncomplicated. I'd like to think I have some of that as part of my life.

Life IS NOT short...Life is fucking long! And, if you're a pain-in-the-ass kinda person, life's even longer.

NNNNN EEEE WAYZZZZZ

My whole point to this preface is this little missive I received today over the filament highway from one of those pleasant, uncomplicated people I count as 'friend'

THE LAST RIDE

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. When I arrived at a fare I was to pick up at 2:30 a.m. , the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated".

"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighbourhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous of us and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance!

Happy Holidaze!

Fibula

Well, yeah...I'm still alive, still living in Westchestah...and James and I are doing just dandy. In fact, it gets better everyday. As I smile at the fragrant, dozen roses, jutting boldly from a vase in my livingroom, I'm reminded what a wonderful, sensuous man he is and how our relationship has progressed. Hey, we've even yelled at each other a few times

So, what compels one to not continue on with bloggety-blogging? Well, a myriad of reasons. For now, let me just expound on a few...deets will follow. K...here's the thingy:

Blogging...I was feeling like it was 'so last century'. I'd become a bit disillusioned with the whole premise. Blogging used to be fun...exciting...and somehow, I'd lost the zing for writing for writings sake. Blogging had almost become an albatross...or an addiction...yeah, that's it! And hey, I'd already been there and frankly, I'm not all that much into obssessing over words. Besides, summer was here. And who wants to bang out text on a keyboard somewhere on a sunny day? Okay, maybe really, freakish whiteys with pink eyes - or mole people or something like that...

Book deal...yes, I've ACTUALLY been writing, albiet, not blogging. And although I have a brief 'first four chapters' posted in my other blog, suffice it to say, there's a considerable amount more that I've written which is in the process of being edited or, so my agent says, "Ya story's good, but you're a sucky writer...we gotta get youse an editah." Okay, maybe not QUITE in that kinda lingo but, that's basically the jist of it. Editah...Agent...decent book deal...who knew? I might actually get the whole fuckin' book published...before the next millennium.

School...along with the writerly part, I've still been slogging along, wistfully dreaming of that day when I can hold that piece of paper in my hand and say, "Ta-da!" And, that's about it. So, why do I keep on? Because I can.

Travelin' and mostly motorcyclin'...I started the (generally speaking) motorcycle 'season' ('round the time I stopped ponying up verbiage for this 'er blog....May or so...) by slammin' into a buzzard with a fresh kill hanging from its beak and ended the season by breaking my ankle in Santorini.



So, yeah, here's the broken part - well, with a 'Greek' splint on here (I didn't actually get cast til I came back to the States) I'm laid up now for the next couple of months and well, I guess the whole 'from here to there' thingy needs some expounding. I'll get back to ya...


Stay tuned...news at 11.

Where Do I Start?

OMG! It has been soooo long since I posted anything to this blog! NOOOO...I haven't forgetten THE HOW of writing; it's the WHEN that has me perplexed (as usual...ad nauseum...aaacckkk!) Suffice it to say with the weather warming up, I've been spending more time on the scoot with my sweetie on his respective scoot, and less time behind the monitor - or laptop, as it were in my case - unless it's banging out the myriad of papers I've had to deliver up, all for sake of that illusive piece-o-paper I've been seeking, lo these many years. Almost there, folks! And for those of you interested...yes:

- I still live in the 'burbs (I'm a Westchestah Beootch, dontchaknow!)
- I'm still having great sex with my sweetie, James
- I still work out - lots - (although, the winter nesting did manage to find me with a few pounds but, those are gone now!)
- I still have that high 6-fig JOB in Midtown
- I went to Costa Rica (tried to upload a pic of me on the wonderfully solitary Cano Island beach, just off the southern Pacific coast but, something's hinky with the upload feature on this 'ere bloggy thingy)
- I continue to save the world from general IT disasters!

OH! And this...just in case you think since I live in Westchestah that somehow I've converted to Republicanism...arghhhh...


What You Need To Believe To Be A Republican this year:

Jesus loves you, and shares your hatred of homosexuals and HillaryClinton.

Saddam was a good guy when Reagan armed him, a bad guy when Bush'sdaddy made war on him, a good guy when Cheney did business withhim, and a bad guy when Bush needed a "we can't find Bin Laden"diversion.

Trade with Cuba is wrong because the country is Communist, but trade with China and Vietnam is vital to a spirit of international harmony.

The United States should get out of the United Nations, and our highest national priority is enforcing U.N. resolutions against Iraq.

A woman can't be trusted with decisions about her own body, but multi-national corporations can make decisions affecting all humankind without regulation.

The best way to improve military morale is to praise the troops in speeches, while slashing veterans' benefits and combat pay.

If condoms are kept out of schools, adolescents won't have sex.

A good way to fight terrorism is to belittle our long-time allies, then demand their cooperation and money.

Providing health care to all Iraqis is sound policy, but providing health care to all Americans is socialism.

HMOs and insurance companies have the best interests of the public at heart.

Global warming and tobacco's link to cancer are junk science, but creationism should be taught in schools.

A president lying about an extramarital affair is an impeachable offense, but a president lying to enlist support for a war in which thousands die is solid defense policy.

Government should limit itself to the powers named in the Constitution, which include banning gay marriages and censoring the Internet.

The public has a right to know about Hillary's cattle trades, but George Bush's driving record is none of our business.

Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime, unless you're a conservative radio host. Then it's an illness and you need our prayers for your recovery.

Supporting "Executive Privilege" for every Republican ever born, who will be born or who might be born (in perpetuity).

What Bill Clinton did in the 1960s is of vital national interest, but what Bush did in the '80s is irrelevant.

Support for hunters who shoot their friends and blame them for wearing orange vests similar to those worn by the quail.

Happy Daze!

Mandolin Rain

Old song...like so many seasons, music, people and places I've known in my life, the comings and goings continue.

Out on the scoots yesterday, I'd had a morning of reflection. Something was up...'guess it was the early morning freak out of checking my bank account only to discover I was in over-draft status...argh. NN EEE WAYZ, glorious morning aside, we'd stopped at this serene park along the Hudson river, where I wasn't feeling 'all there' with my motorcycling skills and, let James know I'd wanted to be home by 5pm or so to work on a paper due for one of my classes. Too much on my mind...and later on, there'd be more.

After staring at my laptop for a while, somehow, I tapped out some text and created a rough outline of where I wanted to go with my paper. While at the same time and, to further distract myself, I started making some gravy (errrr...pasta sauce for those who live outside the Northeast corridor and are unfamiliar with what the hell 'gravy' means) to toss on some pasta we'd have for dinner. Regardless, I just couldn't seem to get it together all day. Sitting in the livingroom with James - just talking about this and that - James asked if we could drag out some old videos of mine I had laying around for posterity, of the various bands and musicians I'd performed with, 'in the day'.

Eh...what the heck

'Course reading the dates on the tapes - 1990....1995 - jeezzzlawweeezz, and watching the person I was on the old videos was just plain weird. Only 16 and 11 years ago, respectively, my life is so different. Yikes! And what was up with that hair? Okay, I'm getting off track...my point: Although James was entertained - and apparently, impressed - (okay, he loves me...awwwww...what a sweetie, eh?) My curiosity was piqued: what has happened to the women I played with early on in one of my musical iterations, 16 years ago - a 'roots-y' group, performing feminist music of Central and South America, post metal band (yeah...I was in a metal band in the 80's...fodder for another story) how far removed is that? So, although I've kept in pretty decent contact with one of the women in our quartet (she's now 'up there' in the foreign service in South America), I wondered what had happened with the other two? I already know what's happened to me (moved to Seattle...moved to NYC...think I want to be a writer when I grow up rather than a musician...blah, blah, blah).

So, I decided to do a Google search on the other two women ...

Lourdes is now considered to be "among the great Latin American female vocalists" and highly acclaimed internationally for her "ability to transcend language...with her achingly beautiful contralto voice" or so her bio-quote goes. Having performed with everyone from Mercedes Sosa to the Indigo Girls.

Rossana found a niche in linguistics and started a translation service, translating from English to Spanish and visa versa. Creating and translating brochures, service manuals and other resources, representative of her bi-lingual abilities.

'Been a while since I've posted anything to this blog and I come up with this. Ehh...days like this; I feel like a loser.

Couldn't Resist...

And now from the wild-n-whacky world of WTF? Check THISUN out...

G-WHIZ!
By SARA STEWART

The shocking new sex procedure that has women gasping...

THIS is one plastic surgery you won't be able to point out during red-carpet arrivals. Forget the lip injections and the breast implants; the hottest place for stars to get shot up with collagen this year is ... the G spot. That elusive female pleasure point - whose very existence was the subject of medical debate for years, and continues to confound many a well-intentioned man - is the pet project of Dr. David Matlock, Beverly Hills OB-GYN, laser surgeon and passionate defender of a woman's right to orgasms.

Lots of them.

His $1,800 procedure, which he calls "the G-Shot," is exactly what it sounds like: a shot of collagen to the G spot, which temporarily enlarges the area, making it easier to locate.

"It took the work out of having an orgasm," explains adult model and sex columnist Rita Granberry - "Rita G" professionally - who had the shot two months ago.

"Before, it was very systematic - I would have to concentrate very hard on a certain thought, while doing several things," she says. "Once I got the shot, it was just happening to me without having to do all the extra stuff."

This is exactly the point, says Matlock, who adds that his patients are experiencing the joy of the G-Shot in ways they never imagined.

"I've had women come back in and say, 'Doctor, you know, I was in spinning class, and I had this smile on my face - and people just thought I was enjoying my spinning," says Matlock, on the phone from his office at the Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation Institute of Los Angeles, where in addition to the G-Shot, he performs a variety of "designer vagina" services.

After an initial consultation and examination - in which Matlock first leaves the woman alone in the exam room to find her own G spot, then comes in to confirm the location - he injects her with a local anesthetic and then administers the collagen injection.

The whole thing takes less than half an hour.

"If a woman comes in at lunchtime," says Matlock, "she'll be here 20 minutes."

Sure, Matlock's quick-fix sex shot may sound like just another expansion of the cosmetic surgery empire.

But there is one major difference. This procedure is all about utility, not vanity - after all, it's not as if anyone is going to be impressed with the looks of a new and improved G spot.

Matlock posits himself as a die-hard feminist, fighting for the rights of women to get their fair share of what until now has been an almost entirely male-dominated niche marketplace.

"If you look in the Physician's Desk Reference guide, there are 18 different types of medication for men for sexual dysfunction," he says. "Is there anything remotely similar for women? They have been left behind in this whole sexual-function business."

That this practice originated in Beverly Hills is hardly surprising, considering the popularity of so many other cosmetic surgeries among those in the entertainment industry.

Though Matlock says he gets customers from all walks of life - "doctors, lawyers" - he admits there are certainly some celebrities mixed in there. After all, they're the ones who can afford the 90210-size price tag: $1,800.

"Some people may say that's a lot," says Matlock, "but we say it's a small price to pay for such a bundle of joy."

And the practice won't be limited to the West Coast for long; Matlock plans to begin farming out his shots to doctors around the country in four to six months.

"They're more pioneers than we are on the East Coast," says Dr. Robert Jason, president of the Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation Institute in Great Neck, who will be the first to offer the service in Manhattan starting this summer.

"I haven't done enough of them to say that this is some panacea," he says. "Dr. Matlock has done hundreds, if not thousands of them - I think I've done about five. But everybody's been pretty happy."

Everyone except sex therapists, who are generally skeptical about the merits of sticking a needle into such a nerve-rich area of the body.

"Intuitively, I would shy away from injecting anything into the G spot," says Dr. Laura Berman, a sex therapist whose new book is "The Passion Prescription."

"We don't know the long-term effects," she cautions.

Besides, she says, the effect of the G-Shot can be had more naturally.

"You can achieve the same ends with some education, and pelvic strength. If you strengthen your muscles, and learn how to utilize them, you're essentially doing the same thing."

Plus, when you're using your muscles, you have the ability to turn it off and on - unlike the G-Shot, which keeps the patient in a near-constant state of sexual arousal for four months.

"It was a little weird at first," admits Rita G., "because I was feeling sensations in that area when I wasn't used to it. If I'm in a meeting and crossing my legs, or have on really tight jeans, I wiggle around in my seat a little."

Ultimately, Berman says, "It depends on your philosophy: Are you a person who would rather get liposuction than work out?

"People who are going to feel comfortable about this procedure are the same people who are getting other plastic surgeries done."

But there will always be those who opt for instant gratification. And word is spreading, especially among the younger female clientele, that the G-Shot makes for a wild ride.

"I get women 21, 22 years old coming in, and I ask them why they want it," says Matlock. "And they say, 'Doctor, I just wanna freak!'

"Women want to have the best sexual experience possible. I see this as huge. Mark my words."
>>>>>>
Jeezzzz...this should be a HUGE Manhattan hit!...clinic on every corner...next to Starbucks!

Driver, one stop! *

(* Shades of Jamaica, mon! 'Driver, one stop' referring to what one would say while bumping along in one of the scraggly-ass, broken-down jitneys, running the strip of road from Mo-Bay to Falmouth when you want to get off the damn bus, already too crammed with locals, unfamiliar with regular hygiene and/or deodorant...eh, for less than $.35, it's a ride!)

Okay already, so I've been busy...and yes, too damn busy to document all the whacky shit I see everyday (synapses are firing well these days, thank you very much), although I DO think about it all. Sorry for not sharing the collecting fodder. Regardless, like a nervous baker, I have been poking at my WIP book from time to time, attempting to write at least a paragraph a day (ehhh...good luck with that, lady!) 'Course, given that I have way too much on my plate already, it's problematic. K...here's the short-list of excuses:

> School - I REALLY needed to bring up my grades this term. So far, after turning in an A+ paper, I'm maintaining an 'A' average. (Thank the goddess I didn't continue sniffing Oven Cleaner...sheesh!)

> Vacays and other Adventures - James & I are off to Costa Rica for a week, beginning...uh...tomorrow! First time for BOTH of us in CR...'course, first time for him off the North Am rock. (only 'foreign' country he's been to, is Canada...in my book, that doesn't quite count)

> J.O.B. - I've actually been working - a lot! Projects, etc, etc, have been complex and time consuming leaving me little time to consider how cranky I am about the whole sitch and if I want to beotch about it, ad nauseum

> Free time - yeah...I need some...don't get enough...and when I do, I just sit there in a catatonic state. Staring at the wall thinking about 'white' (ie: lack of color) is fast becoming one of my favorite passtimes! Okay...just kidding

> Sex - Not an excuse but, yeah, I've been having lots and it's been fun, energizing and gettin' better. I've found with James in this whole 'gettin' couple-y' thingy, that the mystery and frequency of sexual encounters does wane but, is elevated to something better: mutual satisfaction and (yoinks!) love. So, why write when you can fuck? Okay, kinda lame but, soooo much more enjoyable than picking the remnants of a staple out of the laptop keyboard

So...what's next? Dunno...Life is angular...but, often full of curves. Confused yet? I'm not. More 'bout life in the 'burbs as soon as I get around to it.

And I guess that was your accomplice in the woodchipper.

Shades of Fargo! Life has been well, busy for me - happy busy (oh jeezzz...now I'm sounding like some Asian shampoo commercial!) - but, busy, nonetheless. So, not only has my irratic daily (yeah...whatever...) blogging dwindled but, my book still takes up megabytes on my PC, with no newer updates. Ehhh...life is what it is - truly! K...there's this one thingy...

Doing my last personal prep work before I headed out the door for the day and with the toothbrush poking out of my mouth, I was just about ready to expell the anise flavored leavings when the lights flickered and then, went out. Darkness. And Silence. Which was broken in the next few seconds...

We had quite a day and night. Without electricity at our house at this point, I'd had very little sleep since the HUGE windstorm on Tuesday night/Wed morning...more like a shitstorm as it blew down a couple 100 year old + trees on either side of our house! Our neighbors car was crushed...totalled! And all the power lines were knocked out as the tree(s) dragged the lines down to the ground. The big 440 cable (main electric current from transformer to secondary lines) snapped off the ConEd pole and jumped across the pavement, hissing, spitting, arcing all over the place...and this all happened during that last few minutes before James and I walked out of our place, on our way to the train to get to work! NNN EEE WAYZZZ...long story, short, when we finally walked out, we were blocked in on either side by trees and arcing power cables! I'd thought the fucking house was on fire at first. Regardless, we had to wend our way around the dormant Fire Station (next door to us...not functional, used for storing old Fire Engines...and other stuff) to even get to the street!

And if that wasn't enough...when we got home that night, absolutely NOTHING had changed. Except for the command post/staging area which had been set-up in the Fire Station. The streets were blocked off - 4 ways - at the intersection and we had to walk under hazard tape to get to our back porch. Fortunately, our brand new SUV (we just bought not even two weeks ago!) was unharmed as was our house but, no electricity and the remnants of two trees still lay in the street...until around 10pm when the City street crew brought in a HUGE generator and set it up at the Fire House with GIGANTIC white lights, beaming into our place - it was like daytime! Okay, that wasn't so bad, hey, we needed some light and the generator, although noisy wasn't too bad (I pretended it was a giant air conditioner...white noise thingy) but, when they started with the giant power saws and mega-woodchipper around 2am, that took the cake! Oh yeah, and when did they stop? Oh, around 6am...turned off all the equipment (including the big, beaming lights) and went home. Oh, gee, thanks guys...uh, couldn't you have done this during the day when folks go to work as opposed to doing this shit in the middle of the night while we're trying to get some sleep in our cold-assz home(s)?

Life in the 'burbs...ya gotta love it!